A Hunter's Many Dilemmas
by WeaponOfMassFun
Summary: The Anna's big family reunion got a bit out of hand. Bets were made. Now they've resurrected a young man from Earth to champion humanity, or destroy everything. Giving firearms to someone in a medieval world might not have been the smartest idea. At least he'll bring in some business, right? Warning: Sociopathic SI.
1. Chapter 1

"Ouch." _My head hurts a bit too much for a normal headache, and I can't see anything. Oh wait, my eyes are closed_. The young Asian-American's eyes opened as he got to his feet.

"Ho, he's woken up finally!"

"Huh, what the fudge... OL' HUBBA!" Before him stood the wizened figure of the elderly outrealm dweller. He blinked a few more times and ascertained that yes, the splitting image of said character that appeared in some FEA dlcs was standing in front of him, and they were surrounded by a swirling and blue… void.

"That's my name, don't wear it out!" Hubba squinted and looked over the befuddled man. He took out some parchment and a inked quill from a fold in his robes and started scribbling. "Let's see five foot nine and of medium build, has black hair, brown eyes and glasses. Gonna half to get spares ready… " He stopped writing and checking off things on the list and pushed it into the blueness. "Well, looks like you're the one I've been waiting around for. Welcome to the outrealms!"

The man was very confused. But he was too calm to panic. Logic dictated that he should start asking questions. _Well, guess I'll go with the flow._ "Okay, outrealms, I get that part. First, is this a dream? Second, how? Third, why were you waiting for me specifically?"

Old Hubba chuckled at the bluntness. "Right to the point eh? Well then, no you are not dreaming. As for how, okay don't freak out, but you kinda died next to a temporary outrealm gate."

The man was not amused."I don't feel dead, and what do you mean by temporary?" _I'm dead!? Huh, trippy afterlife. Thought it'd be more… I guess more of something_.

Hubba took a deep breath and launched into his explanation. "So you see, each world has its own outrealm gate. But smaller gates can pop up sporadically depending on how out of whack the dimensional boundary is. As for being dead, focus on what you remember happening before you woke up here. All I can say for sure is that some kind of force was involved, and the impact jarred your soul into the small gate that popped up for that brief instant."

 _That's very nice of him to be so honest. Same ol Hubba. Let's see here. Woke up. Went to work. Cleaning shit up. Going to the trash compactor… I slipped on some cardboard. I fuckin died because some asshat from night shift left cardboard on the snow! The inadequate railings and very painful metal that I hit my head on didn't help._

Old Hubba looked at him expectantly. "Well?"

"Yeah, you were right. What now? Will I pass on to the other side eventually?"

"Umm, that's part of your third question. Your soul has been drifting, gathering energy and snippets of your other iterations for decades now." _Sheesh, how long was I out_? "You aren't going to pass on because your soul has remanifested its own vessel. I'm pretty sure I saw you drift by a few times before actually."

"Vessel, like a body? I'm alive again?"

Hubba had a somewhat distraught expression on his face. He took a deep breath. "No, you are not. Well, not yet. There is simply a container that is keeping you in limbo. I can give you the final push, quite literally, back into life through a outrealm gate. Which goes into my next explanation. So you see I may have been contacted by a group of very fine red-haired ladies to reacquaint you with the living."

The expressions of joy or shock eluded the long dead man, so he settled for narrowing his eyes. "The Anna's, of course. But knowing them, there'll be a steep price tag and endless teasing as part of the package. But I want to know why they want to bring me back. Shits and giggles? Manual labor? I bet the former."

Hubba couldn't help but chuckle again. "Spot on young'n, they wanna see how you, I quote, fuck shit up. And who said drunken bets were a bad thing, hah! Their family reunion played a part in this, but have no fear! They've gotten some stuff together for you so death can't catch up to early. Oh but disclaimer, you will be biologically immortal, sort of."

"From the whole gathering energy thing, right? I can live with that."

 _Bad pun completely intended_.

"Yep, you'll age sort of like a manakete. Oh, but let's move onto your stuff! Pretty fancy stuff at that! Okay, first is your armor!" Hubba clapped his hands together.

The man found himself suddenly enveloped in a suit of armor that felt oddly light. He looked at his gauntlets and gasped. Shimmering metal and bluish hide melded into functional and artistic design. He could only mutter in astonishment. "The Legiana armor… Only in my daydreams did I imagine having my own set." And then it hit him. He was wearing a full helmet, without his glasses, and see perfectly fine.

Old Hubba gazed at the excited youth, wondering if this journey would become a dream come true for the man, or his bittersweet nightmare. "Yes, yes thank me all you want. The Anna's also had me dig around for equipment that you had in other lives, though it was quite easy to find since your soul decided to grab a bit of everything on its way. I just retraced the steps. Alright then. Next is this fancy sword among others." Hubba pulled out another list and started tracing out and listing things. "Titanium-alloy katana, modified Chrome Assault bowgun, SP89 doohickey, serrated BC-41 combat dagger, and a enchanted ammo pouch. All accounted for." Hubba looked up to see the stranger stumbling around trying to balance all the extra wait that had suddenly attached to him.

"Where the ever loving fuck did this come from!" He had finally righted himself and was looking over his new kit with both awe and suspicion.

 _Sword is understandable, but the bowgun seems a bit much for where I think I'm going. Bah, who cares about playing fair. That knife though, so many war crimes in my future. And my dad's SP89! I had always wanted to try it at the ranges some day. Maybe he buried it with me? Nah_.

"Okay, all set, ready to go? Oh and what was your name? Nearly forgot to ask since you knew mine."

The now heavily armed man was smirking underneath his helmet, already planning chaos. "Hmm, well this seems to be a new life in a new world. You can call me Masaru."

"Well then Masaru, off you go!"

"Wait a second, awakening verse right? Good timeline or failed timeline?"

"What's that? Alrighty then. One failed timeline comin right up!"

"What! No!" Hubba shoved him into the blue void. "FUCKING HELL!"


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: So, there are indeed people who wish to read my ramblings. A true surprise. For thee devout followers I decree: I am writing/typing this story to keep myself literate. There will be times life drags me away from updating this, but I shall carry on and finish the story even if it takes me years. Oh, and there will be a great deal of stuff from other sources in this story, none of which I own. I just like a lot ideas I see in video games. And Mandalorians. I guess that's the disclaimer part. Other bold parts represents a character reading text. Enjoy.**

Amidst an open field, one armored figure lay face down, a furry compatriot fussing over him. The felyne in question was wearing red scaled armor with black spikes adorning edges, resembling a miniature dragon. They had a very small sword of similar material that occasionally would glow like an ember. Its fur was white along the mouth and paws, and black around its yellow eyes and ears, presumably its back as well. The panicked bipedal cat was doing his best to rouse Masaru.

"Meowster! Meowster! Please wake up!"

Masaru opened his eyes, and then remembered his predicament. _Please oh please be before Grima wakes up_. The constant mews and pleading for some kind of response dragged his thoughts back into coherence and prompted him to roll over and sit up. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. His palico from Monster Hunter: World was there in front of him.

 _How much did the Anna's bring here?_ He spoke up. "Mocha?"

The felyne seemed to tear up before flinging himself and holding Masaru in a tiny hug. "Meowster, it is you! I thought that I wouldn't ever get to see you again after that Deviljho did Meowster in… I'm so happy." Mocha let go of Masaru and sat down. Masaru stayed silent for a moment.

"A Deviljho? Not even an Elder Dragon?" he finally said. "Guess it's still called the murder pickle for a reason. Well, I never thought I'd get to see you, and it's one miracle after another." He paused before continuing. "Sooo, how'd ya get here?" Masaru asked as he started adjusting all of his equipment to be prepared.

"Well, after my version of Meowster was gone, I couldn't figure out what to do. I was not a good purrveyor of research, so I couldn't even help the scholars in the third fleet. Then this cheery red haired person paid the home base a visit out of nowhere! She told me I could see Meowster again if I went with her. Meow one wish could be granted, so I said yes. Oh! Meowster, this note was on Meowster's back! She told meow to make sure Meowster read it." Mocha searched his small backpack and took out some familiar looking parchment, and handed it to Masaru.

 **Take care of the little fella, okay? I need to remind you that the Anna's will be asking for a lot of favors. And JK for the failed timeline bit. Sincerely, Hubba**

 _That old coot had me going there for a second. Better double check all my stuff to avoid anymore surprises. And then time for operation find Southtown before the bandits do. I suck at naming things._ Masaru folded the note and gave it to Mocha for documentation later. He then started examining his newly acquired death tools. First the knife. Huh, looks like someone attached a blade to spiked brass knuckles. Metal seems to be one piece, has a nice fit in my hand, and the blade appears to be around 9 inches and designed for both slashing and stabbing.

As Mocha started munching on some felyne friendly rations, Masaru move on to inspecting his sword. However, he noticed a scroll attached to the sheath with red string. He untied it and opened the scroll, and another revelation hit him.

 **My great grandson, it brings me great joy to finally have a chance to tell you how proud you make me and our ancestors. You struggled in the beginning of your life, gathering hatred and rage inside of you. But then you tempered it, calmed it, made it a positive influence by using it to hold firm the ideals of our beloved country. I'm not referring to your ancestral homeland of Japan. Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of happiness gave me and my family the joy that can only come from living in the United States. I'm glad you appreciate your Japanese heritage, but your birth country is your true homeland. There is so much more I wish to tell you, but it can wait. I write to you that you are chosen to carry on our clan's legacy. I name you the new head of the Tsutsumi samurai clan, and let this weapon forged in the afterlife serve as your blade. Honor guide you.**

 **Love, Sengo Tsutsumi.**

Masaru stared at the scroll, reading it again several more times. His great grandfather, the last samurai known in his family tree, had been watching over him. He had always hoped to be able to proudly call himself Sengo's successor. And now without doubt, he could. He rolled the scroll back up and handed to Mocha for safekeeping as well, then focused his attention back to the katana. When he placed his hand on the sheath, a otherworldly feeling ran along his nerves. So this is what it feels like to hold a regalia, a weapon so sublime it radiates power. _It needs a name to exemplify its wonder. But what? Maybe its design can help me._ The sheath was jet black with gold adorning the ends. Etched to the sides were images of eastern dragons. The grip of the blade was wrapped with durable looking yellow thread, forming a diamond pattern. When he tried unsheathing the sword it became apparent that it was incredibly heavy. And when he succeeded in drawing it, he nearly got dragged to the ground by it. Masaru shifted his weight and managed to hold the blade up with one hand just barely. _Gonna need to get use to the weight. Actually, going to need to learn how to wield it in the first place. I only trained with a bamboo staff._ The actual blade was darker in color, with the signature waves down its length. Hmm, I think I got something.

"Judgement" he said. "This blade will herald justice, violence, and mercy." Satisfied with the name, Masaru returned Judgement to its sheath. And then the fierce pistol on his right hip got his attention. The SP89 was all black, it looked like a MP5K but with a built in barrel guard and grip. The magazine loaded was curved and elongated for a better capacity. _Hmm. If I remember correctly it's a 9mm semi-auto pistol and OH SHIT IS THAT A LASER SIGHT!? But I don't have spare batteries… oh. Small solar panel on the side of it. Anna's of the universe I praise you. Okay. Three 30 round magazines, and in the ammo pouch OH DEAR LORDS._

As Masaru withdrew some rounds from the pouch, more seemed to suddenly start forming inside. _Okay, ammo isn't a problem. But I still have a 90 round limit to engagements since I have put the bullets in the mags. And I'm unsure how effective 9mm will be against armored foes. And Risen. Almost forgot about those undead fuckers. He stashed the ammo back into the pouch and closed it._

And finally, Masaru unclipped the bowgun from his back and set it in front of him. Steel glistened in the light, the cumbersome weapon seemed to almost sparkle. It folded on a hinge to become more portable, and had more compartments for ammo than he thought possible. It had a shield to guard the main body of the weapon, with the long barrel extending through the bottom. A glowing box on his belt reminded him of the guns special ammo, which was similar to machine gun fire. But as he pushed it into its readied form, he was suddenly overwhelmed by a myriad of lights and words popping up in front of his face. A heads up display. _How the ever loving shab did they get this! I'm not complaining but seriously! How much shit do they want me to fuck up!?_

An hour later Masaru had finally gotten himself acquainted with the HUD in his helmet. He had learned that looking at a spot and blinking twice quickly would bring up a corresponding display of information, and repeating would dismiss it. He also found the item pouch display. It puzzled him that it the list was empty. That is until he blinked twice at the 'access option'. It turned out that his item 'pouch' was actually a pocket outrealm that he could store things in suspension. He simply had to touch what he wanted to put away and select 'storage'. No more cold pizza, if there was any pizza to store. _Damn handy thing. Could pile a shitload of vulneraries in there and pull them out on the fly._

Masaru reattached all of his gear and looked back at Mocha, who had been cleaning a wonderful device. The palico was cleaning the other Masaru's slinger, the only thing he had left of him. A grappling launcher and powerful slingshot, the slinger was an immense tactical advantage. After attaching it to his left forearm, he stood up and loudly declared "Ready world, cause here I come! To Southtown!" He looked around the open field, then back to Mocha. "Uh, did you per chance know the way to our next destination?"

"Well Meowster, we could just follow the reinforcemeownts for those scary bandits over there." Mocha pointed to a distant spot on the road adjacent, and no less than 30 bandits could been seen making progress, presumably towards Masaru's intended destination.

"Well that works. Come on Mocha! Those bandits are just monsters dressed like humans. LET'S GO HUNTING!"

"Aye Meowster!"

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Chrom thought that today would end without too much fuss. Their patrol had been mostly uneventful, save a fight with invisible beasts and meeting a royal with pointy ears. Then Lissa nearly tripped over someone. After some debate as what to do, the silver haired woman woke up. Her clothes were unusual, beige pants and tunic along with a black cloak with strange symbols that resembled eyes. She surprisingly knew Chrom's name but remembered little else, which unsurprisingly caused Frederick to become even more suspicious of her, if such a thing was possible. In the end they decided to take her to the nearest town and figure out things from there.

Then they saw the smoke.

When they arrived the town was already ablaze in some parts. The corpses of villagers lay scattered, left where they had been cut down. The majority of bandits had swept through the town and were converging on the church. Chrom, Frederick, and Lissa made their way through blood splattered streets until reaching the market square. Frederick charged ahead on his armored steed, skewering a bandit on his silver lance. Chrom also moved forward to engage another bandit. Thus leaving Lissa undefended.

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Masaru soon found another feature of his HUD. It projected a circular aiming reticule that estimated the trajectory of his shots when not aiming down sights. A necessity he sorely needed, seeing as the bowgun could only be fired from the hip, and he had never actually shot a regular firearm before. He decided his pistol would allow more maneuverability, and aimed it at the back of the bandits. He flipped off the safety and the circle of light red popped up, and was quite large at the range he was. So Masaru opted to use the laser sight. He trained the small red dot on the back of the closest bandit's skull and pulled the trigger. A gunshot and a falling bandit indicated a hit. Both the bandits and Masaru were startled by the resounding crack of the air as expanding gases propelled the bullet out of its jacket and into the unlucky bandit's brain.

 _Shit! That was loud! At least I can shoot without needing hearing protection. The recoil is kind of a problem, since this thing has a pistol grip without a stock. Oh, they seem to have noticed me after they finished gawking at the dead one. Welp, spray and pray time._ Masaru held his weapon at hip level, braced, and pulled the trigger as fast as he could. The tiny firearm spat out the remaining 29 rounds at a continuous and steady rate, destroying its wielder's opposition. Almost.

As the bandits tried to charge, their front line fell prey to the advanced projectiles. 16 fell to Masaru's initial volley, and 4 others had taken hits that slowed them considerably. Their morale plummeted, and the survivors began to run. The slower ones were picked off by Mocha and his small sword. Masaru had fumbled while switching magazines, which prevented him from quickly dispatching the rest. He cursed when he realized the bandits had ran towards their original destination, and gave chase with Mocha in tow.

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Chrom and Frederick had regrouped with Lissa and the mysterious Robin. A timely intervention by the cloaked amnesiac had saved the delicate princess from a bandit who was still skulking through the alleyways. After thanking her for the rescue, Robin asked about their battle plan. Chrom spoke up. "We were just going to charge them." Robin gave him a look of disbelief. "That is probably the stupidest thing I have ever heard. Well, that I remember hearing." She took a few breaths to calm herself, trying not to rant about all the reasons why such a basic idea was not actually a plan. She failed. "So what if you're skilled, they outnumber us five to one! You should be baiting individuals away from the main group or moving together while escorting your healer and-" she would have kept going if Chrom didn't interrupt. "You know tactics?"

She blinked. "Um, I think? I can sort of see things. The flow of battle, weaponry and abilities, enemy formation and movements. I must have studied this somewhere."

Chrom contemplated for a moment before saying "I believe you know what you're doing. You sure you want to help?" Robin nodded, gesturing to her spell book and sword. "Right then. Guide our swords." Frederick sighed and readied his steed for another charge.

Robin took a survey of their current battlefield and noted there were still a good 20 bandits now readying themselves to fight the Shepherds. "Frederick, I need you to charge those archers and make way for the rest of us. Loop back afterwards to cover our rear. Chrom and I will advance towards the church, I'll fend off the mages. Lissa, stay several paces behind us and be ready to move back more in case ranged units get too close. Heal us as you see fit. Chrom, I need you to try and engage the bandits one-on-one while we make our way to their leader. Any questions?"

"I will admit, that sounds like a sound strategy. But understand that if anything happens to milord or milady…" Frederick scowled.

"Yes, I understand."

"Good then. Now excuse me." Frederick spurred his horse into action and charged towards the bandit bowmen. Chrom, Robin, and Lissa began their advance. A bandit axe fighter ran at Chrom, but he telegraphed his swing. Chrom simply sidestepped and brought Falchion into the man's rib cage. Robin noted that the grunt's lack of skill could be attributed to being usually up against unarmed villagers and poorly trained militia. She took another glance at the main obstacles, the mages. As they approached, Frederick and his steed came galloping and fell in behind to protect the flank.

"BOSS! BOSS! WHERE ARE YOU!?"

The Shepherds all turned their heads. Chrom voiced their collective thoughts. "Damn, the dastards have reinforcements." Two more bandits came from a side alley further ahead. Robin noted they seemed a bit out of breath.

The bandit leader yelled back. "Oi! Bout time ya runts got here! Where's the rest of ya?"

"They're all dead! We got ambushed by some kinda mage on the road! We gotta git outta here!" The henchman chanced a quick look behind him. "Oh gods he's-" There was a loud noise and the one who spoke stumbled out further into sight. A cylinder of some sort was embedded in the man's torso, and was emitting sparks. Robin and co watched in horror as it detonated.

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Masaru was livid. He had used up another magazine chasing down and killing the remaining bandits, and yet two managed to make it into town. He realized there would still be Risen to deal with, and opted to save the last loaded mag until then. He also had horrible stamina thanks to the myriad of breathing problems that plagued him. _I'll be too out of breath to move at speed in the streets. Screw it. They are SO dead. Bowgun time._ Masaru clipped his pistol back to his side and unfurled the miniature cannon. A circle and three lines popped up on the HUD, one line each on the left and right sides of the circle, and one at the bottom. He made his way through the narrow alleyways at a snails pace.

Once he managed to catch his breath, he walked towards the sounds of battle. Turns out he took the same route the bandits opted, as he saw the two runners a good six meters away. They were standing just outside the end of the alley and were shouting to someone. Masaru aligned his crosshairs and pulled the trigger just as one turned around. It is safe to say that Masaru immediately regretted not checking what ammo he had loaded. Rather than seeing a gigantic hole blown into the bandit's chest, the sparkling round lodged itself into flesh. And then it blew up.

All parties involved watched as the outer casing of the ammo blasted open and blades ejected in quick succession of each other, shredding their immediate surroundings. The bandit who was shot was quickly turned assorted piles of flesh and bone that splattered the streets. His companion was not so lucky. He died a slightly slower death as each laceration exposed more of his insides. He eventually collapsed with his entire front body sliced open, blood forming a grisly puddle.

Masaru stared at his handiwork. A mix of shock, fascination, and disgust came over him. _I didn't mean to do that, I didn't mean to do that, I didn't mean to do that!_ He wanted to look away, wanted to forget. Then his skewed logic tried to help him cope. _Wait. Calm breathing. It doesn't matter. They were bandits, they deserved worse. Who knows how many people they've butchered in cold blood. It's just a pile of stuff. I'm doing this world a favor. But let's just hold off on the slicing ammo for now. It'd be bad to throw up in a helmet._ Masaru folded the bowgun and placed it on his back again. He did his best to not be bothered by what he'd done. To his horror, it was extremely easy.

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For a moment, all combatants had to stop and process what they had witnessed. The bandits were silently panicking and looking to their leader for orders. The boss bandit was too shell shocked to say anything. Lissa had paled considerably and was stammering. Chrom was trying to shield Lissa's eyes, and muttering a prayer. Frederick was trying to say something, but he simply could not find the words. Robin stared aghast, while getting mentally prepared for whatever stepped from the alley.

The sound of armor clinking made them tense up. A man in imposing armor of blue and gray stepped into view. His helmet had a menacing hawk motif, and two blue horns curved back along the top. Loose faulds with black crosses adorned his torso. What disturbed Robin the most though, was that the armor seemed to be made from something once living. There were three blue gems inlaid along the chest piece, each pulsating as if they contained a heartbeat. She noted the blade at his side resembled a killing edge. He also had a strange metallic… something on his back. She assumed it was a weapon. He stood with his arms crossed, surveying his handiwork and the current battleground. When his gaze fell upon the Shepherds, they froze.

A voice suddenly projected itself from the helmet.

"I know, not the best first impression. But let's get to that after these cowards are routed. Dibs on their leader." The strange warrior drew a equally strange dagger instead of the sword and began advancing to the remaining brigands.

Robin looked to Chrom. "Should we be worried?"

The prince sighed. "He's not trying to kill us outright, but I think we might need a little bit of Frederick's caution here. Gods know what kind of magic that was." Chrom nodded at Frederick, giving him permission to interdict if things turned for the worse. They too began advancing.

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Masaru had noted the expression on the Shepherd's faces when he revealed himself.

 _Real smooth there. Yeah, great way to start making friends with the Shepherds. Just commit a horrible war crime in front of them and then shrug it off. And I'll probably be taking stuff from the dead brigands too. Of course that's completely okay. Sheesh, I'm so screwed. Still, I feel less guilty about killing than I thought I would. And I feel like the evilest scum of the world for making Lissa see that. Good to know I got my priorities straight. Let's see here. Sword is a no go, don't know anything other than basic stances to wield it. I don't have a staff either. But I am half decent at hand to hand combat. The dagger it is._

The first bandit to face Masaru was understandably nervous. But seeing his opponent holding only a dagger in the right hand emboldened him. He swung his axe, aiming for the chest with a horizontal swing. Rather than moving back to avoid the attack, Masaru dived forward underneath into a crouch and then sprung up. His left hand grabbing the bandit's shoulder, the right delivering an uppercut. The metal knuckles of the blade prevented Masaru from injuring his hand while providing a damaging boost to his counterattack. There was a sickening thwack as the blow connected. He put his left leg forward and knocked the bandit down with a sweep. The bandit had no time to recover before Masaru's dagger was plunged into his neck. He pinned the bandit down, holding his dagger in the man's throat until the gurgling and thrashing stopped.

He got up, blood splattered on his armor. He did not register the gore. Masaru's mind had been overcome with instinct. Adrenaline rushed, and his only thoughts were on surviving . To him though, survival was putting down the opposition and making sure it didn't get back up. Counter, disable, kill. Repeat. A bandit mage finally gathered his wits and began casting. The Shepherds took the opportunity to join the fray, Robin covering with thunder spells and Chrom cutting down nearby bandits. The mage managed to shoot a blade of wind just before Robin struck him with her own spell. The spell was aimed at Masaru, who was busy with another bandit, a myrmidon. The two were grappling, trying to inch their weapons close enough to break the stalemate. Robin shouted in vain. "Look out!"

The spell made contact with both fighters. Both were sent sprawling on the ground, the brigand bleeding out. A large gash was cut into the side of the myrmidon. Masaru's experience was different. One moment he was focused on stabbing his opponent, the next he felt an impact on his armor that flung him to the side. He rolled somewhat and came to a rest against something. _Shit! Feels like someone took a metal bar to my side. Ouch, muscles aching, head still spinning, and… oh. I'm not feeling any blood gushing out of me. Hooray for armor! Wait, what's next to me? It doesn't feel like wood or stone…_

Next to Masaru was a dead villager. There was a cut from the shoulder that ran down to the hip, indicating how he died. _That'll be me if I don't keep it together. Damn, someone's gonna suffer for this._ He clambered to his feet and saw that the outlaws were slowly losing ground to Chrom's entourage. His gaze met that of the bandit leader. _Him. That's the one that needs to pay. I wonder how far I can go with the good guys still here? Ah! An interrogation seems to be in order._ He picked up a stone and sprinted forward to catch up with the rest.

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All brigands with the exception of one had been dealt with. Now alone, the boss eyed his five opponents, looking for an opportunity to either escape or exploit their weak link. Robin had noted that this bandit's axe seemed much lighter and of slightly better make than the rest. She warned Chrom and Frederick that it could probably double as a throwing weapon. Thus they had stayed at a distance to avoid being caught off guard. Masaru was impatiently inching ever closer, confident in his armor. _Alrighty then. Stone loaded, check. Bandit distracted by Chrom and co, also check. Willingness to torture that fucker, most certainly check. Ready, aim, FIRE!_

While the boss had been trying to figure out his chances of taking a hostage, Masaru had loaded his slinger and fired a rock. It slammed into the bandit's face and sent him to his knees. Masaru wasted no time, rushing forward and stealing the hand axe with his item pouch. He brought his knee up into the chin to further "pacify" his target. And then proceeded to break the bandit's arms and legs, the bandit screaming. Once again, the Shepherds froze at the display of brutality.

Masaru stood over his immobilized victim and drew Judgement. "Alright scum, this is how it's going to go. You either tell me why you raided this town, or I start cutting off pieces of you."

The now incapacitated brigand was glaring as best he could at his interrogator. "Why does that matter?"

Masaru's response was to jam the tip of Judgement's blade into the back of boss bandit's hand. Which elicited a scream of pain.

"It matters because your willingness to answer determines how much more pain I'm going to inflict on you."

"OKAY! OKAY! I'll talk!"

"That's Better." Masaru lifted his sword out of the bloodied hand and held it to the side.

"K-king Grangrel ordered us ta cross the border and attack villages. He wanted it to git another war started. That's the reason."

 _I already know that, but now the Shepherds know too._ "Now was that so hard? And as a gift for your cooperation, I pardon you."

There was a pause. "Really, just like that?"

Masaru held Judgement with both hands now. "Yes, that's right. With the power vested to me, I hereby pardon you from life."

Chrom stared at the now headless corpse, unsure as to what just transpired. And to make matters even stranger, the sword used by the terrifying warrior almost looked alive as it ended the brigand. This man had helped them though, so he made a decision to put his doubts aside for the time being. He sheathed Falchion, much to Frederick's disapproval. Chrom gestures to his knight and Robin do the same with their weapons as well, which they hesitantly obliged.

Chrom decided he should speak first. "Well met friend, I must thank you for assisting us in protecting this town. I am Chrom, leader of the Shepherds. May I know who you are?"

Masaru was a little distracted, seeing as his sword spoke in his mind when it cut into its first kill. _'This soul is unworthy'_ was what it had said. He had the gut feeling that Judgment somehow ate the poor bastard's soul. _Great, a sentient sword. I'm batshit crazy._ Although that seemed unlikely. "Huh, whazzat?" He finally registered that someone was talking to him.

Frederick butted in. "Milord asked for your identity, sir."

 _Ah shit. It's Freddy Bear the Paranoid. Just gotta play nice._ He sheathed Judgement and turned to the Shepherds. "I am Masaru. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. We can talk later."

They had not expected the terse nature of his response. But then he gestured to their side where an elderly villager was approaching them. While they were distracted, Masaru used the opportunity to slip away.

 _People anxiety still a problem. Oh well. Now I can start my looting spree._

Some time later…

" I don't wanna camp!" Lissa was very adamant that she was opposed to giving up the village's generosity.

Chrom was about to remind her that she was the one who insisted on joining their patrol in the first place, when he noticed Frederick wasn't backing him up. "Frederick, what's wrong?"

"Milord and Milady, I advise we stick keep our wits about us. That armored scoundrel has disappeared." He continued sweeping his gaze across the town.

Robin had been unnaturally quiet, and so startled them when she spoke up. "Actually, I managed keep tabs on him. He's been taking the weapons and money off the bandits. But all of it keeps disappearing. I have no idea where he keeps stashing it. He turned down that alley." She pointed at an out-of-the-way side street.

Wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

"Meowster! I'm sorry it took meow so long to catch-up." Mocha had shown up and Masaru was hoping no one managed to spot the abnormally large and bipedal cat.

"Relax. Honestly, I think it's for the best we introduce you later. What kept you?" Masaru knew that palicos would stop for important things, like gathering materials.

"I know Meowster likes useful stuff, so I took the shiny things and bags from the dead guys. Look!" A new screen popped up on Masaru's HUD. 'Palico Inventory' opened up and displayed Mocha's haul. 11 axes, 10 swords, 9 lances, all bronze. A total of 89 gold coins from their purses.

"Huh, neat." Masaru selected 'Transfer' and 'All Items'. "Good work, this adds up nicely. So combined with what I scavenged we got 16 axes, 14 swords, and 163 gold coins. I'm going to give the lances to the townsfolk so they might stand a better chance against the next raid. And before I forget, how much can you carry at once?"

"Meow item bag is limited, so I can only carry purrhaps 30 different types of items. Meowster's is unlimited, so remember to collect what I've gathered regularly."

"Got it. Try to stay out of sight for awhile longer. I'll let you know when I need you."

 **AN: Reviews can only help, and let me know if you want some first person writing as well. Updates and chapters will become a bit more sporadic from now on. And for those of you wondering, Masaru is the old me. Much more callous and aggressive. And you'll get to see him without meds. Brace yourselves.**


	3. Chapter 3: Setup for Madness

**AN: Sorry for the wait folks. Writer's block is no more, and I've discovered the wonders of talk to type. Have some reads.**

Masaru POV

Okay, I might or might not be able to pull this off. There be Shepherds round the corner, and they've already seen me be less than civilized. As long as Freddy doesn't try to run me through, I should be able to convince Chrom that I'm not a threat to Ylisse. And as much as I want to join the Shepherds and live the dream, I must be practical. Moderately crippling anxiety around strangers, check. Aversion to dirt and grime, check. Short fuse and violent outbursts, also check. I am quite certain that me being a soldier would be a helluva trainwreck. If I acted separately though… I'd either be dead within the month or barely scraping by.

 _Wait,_ Laurent is already here! Perhaps an armed collective headed by the future children could do some damage. Or it could get them all killed. I need help, but who could I willingly put in harm's way without killing my conscience? No, no one is expendable. I must never give in to thinking like the tyrants of old. I'm too unstable to be taking chances with my mentality. I'll do the dirty work, with proper support. Like with the help of a very resourceful red-haired merchant family. Anna's paralogue happened in the northern part of the map, so if I skip straight into Regna Ferox I could get an actual plan of attack in order…

* * *

Masaru had unfortunately forgotten his current situation, and thus he had paced back into the market plaza where the Shepherds waited. Frederick was upon him immediately. There was no avenue of escape. He had been effectively cornered. _Well Shit._

Frederick's glare was most impressive. Some would say it could clear away pebbles with but a glance. "Now then stranger, I'm already dealing with one individual who might pose a threat to milord. I have no time for games. Where are you from, what are you doing here, and what kind of magic did you use earlier?"

 _If I remember correctly, I can be a horrible liar. Let's try for half truths then._ Masaru cleared his throat and spoke. "As you already know, I am Masaru. I hail from a very distant country, most definitely not on any of your maps."

Chrom stepped forward to handle the diplomacy. "Is that so? May we know the name of your homeland and about how you got here?" He gave a reassuring smile.

Masaru nodded. "Yes, of course. My homeland is a powerful country known as the United States of America, the USA for short. My kin live in two of the fifty states."

"States, as in provinces or duchies? And fifty of them?" Chrom wasn't expecting that.

"Yes, not including the territories held. To give you a better idea of the place, forty-eight states make up the mainland, stretching from the east and west coasts of the continent. The northernmost state, Alaska, is actually separated from the mainland by our northern neighbor, Canada. But since our countries are close allies, it's not really a problem. Alaska is quite large, I think it was big enough to equal almost half the mainland. Then there's Hawaii, a small archipelago formed by molten rock rising from the ocean. It sits in the middle of all that water off the west coast. Because of how big the country is, we get all sorts of climates, from tundra to grass prairies, deserts and all other sorts."

The prince thought for a moment, trying to process what he just heard from this strange warrior. A nation of such size would be spoken of widely. Then again, if it resided on a continent apart from Valm and here, nobody would have been able to travel far enough to bring stories or rumors of such a land. The details didn't seem like they could be made up on the spot. The stern knight scoffed. But before he could make an accusation, Chrom silenced him with a look. The prince of Ylisse did not need a diplomatic faux pas with a foreigner. A heavily armed and armored foreigner.

"Well, it certainly sounds like an interesting country, but how did you get here? It must have been quite quite the journey by sea."

 _And now the difficult part._ "I didn't travel by sea." Masaru took a deep breath and instantly regretted it. "South. Island. Gate. I've got business partners to meet up north, so pardon me." Masaru suddenly started to walk away.

Frederick reacted first. "Stop! You leave when milord says-" he didn't get to finish. Masaru turned midstep, and Frederick suddenly found himself beset by bronze lances falling on him.

"A gift for the townsfolk. Bye." A large cloud of smoke erupted and the sound of clunking metal echoed before fading. The Shepherds were left open mouthed- minus Frederick, who was coughing and cursing from under the pile of weapons.

* * *

Masaru POV

As soon as I cleared the town outskirts, I desperately tried to take off my helmet. It took me a moment to find the clasps that released whatever seals were worked into the design. I yanked it off and began to empty my already empty stomach. It was an unpleasant reminder of my pampered upbringing. The smell, that stench of death was unbearable. I had to get away. I simply held my breath when searching the bodies, but eventually the smell wafted through more of the battlefield. I panicked, and yet did not wish to show weakness to others. It was not the impression I wish to have. Once I felt better, I began to walk while looking up. I wasn't sure if it was before or after noon, so I'd have to ask for directions and then head out. _Infinite smoke bombs in the inventory hotbar is the best thing since chocolate._ I suddenly heard some commotion and turned back to the town. Some buildings were still on fire, and the survivors were putting up a valiant effort to extinguish them before the damage spread further.

After replacing my helmet, which let out a hiss as it resealed, I began to cycle through the bowgun displays with greater scrutiny. Lo and behold, I had water shot , it looked like I had some of every type of ammo. _That's different from the game. Each bowgun had limits as to what they could shoot._ My musings would have to wait though. With assistance from my slinger's grappling hook, I managed to clamber up onto a nearby rooftop.

 _Okay, not that bad. I'm just going to need a nap later. That building's fire seems to be the worst. Just gotta not hit anyone by accident. Let's see… Bowguns have a bolt that when pulled, cycles the bullets inside to the desired ammo._ I pulled the bolt and… nothing happened. _Oh._ I forgot that in the game, you select the ammo, and then your character pulls the bolt back. I blinked at the bottom right corner of my HUD, and a list of the ammo types loaded popped up. Just select water and then pull… there! Water ammo loaded! _I hope._ Line up the crosshairs and- _Wait, does water ammo even act like water?_ Too late! Already pulled the trigger!

* * *

The people of Southtown moved with heavy hearts, but they knew they could mourn later. All able bodies were helping to ferry water from the wells and river to put out fires that the bandits had started earlier. Most had been successfully quelled, save for a few buildings still ablaze. Four townspeople were trying to manage the largest fire when the following happened.

There was a loud sound, one that the villagers did not recognize.

Immediately following the strange sound was a loud exclamation. " _OSIK'LA KYR!"_

And then, an explosion of water doused a large portion of the burning building, and soaking the four who had been dumping water on the now sputtering flames.

"By the grace of Naga! What was that?"

Heads turned to the source of the shout from earlier. They saw Masaru, gripping for dear life, part of the roof he was on. His weapon had nearly sent him back to the ground with its recoil. They stared at him until he finished climbing back down the one-story house. Before he could make a getaway, more villagers gathered close to him. A young girl spoke up. "Hey, its him! The fancy armored fella who helped the Shepherds fight the bandits!" The small crowd clamored with thanks and gratitude, much more than what Masaru had ever received before. _At least they're okay with me._

* * *

Masaru POV Some time later…

I can finally set out. After declining to stay the night, the townsfolk instead gave me food and water for the road. Thankfully my shyness didn't stop me from accepting that gift. I now have enough fruit, jerky, and bread to last me a week. All in my trusty inventory space. One of the impromptu firefighters even helped me get the blood off my armor with a bucket of water.

If I remember correctly then the road goes north, straight all the way to the Longfort. Ylisstol is off to the west at some point. _North I go!_ I began marching my way along the dirt road, remembering my days in JROTC. I saw Mocha waiting for me up ahead. Still, I felt oddly lonely. _I've always marched with others in formation before this._ I needed to keep the depressing thoughts away. Then I had a great idea. I lifted my chin up and belted out my voice, not caring who might hear me.

"Mama mama, can't you see, look what the Army's done to me!"

I sang as I marched, until the sun started to set.

Much later…

*Click, Click* Night would soon fall, *Click*, and the dead would rise… by falling out of the sky. It was hilariously ironic, at least for me. I still had some time though, so I should probably check ye 'ol mental faculties while I reloaded my mags. I gestured to Mocha that we'd probably have to stop for now, and we took up temporary residence in a nearby tree. Mocha started making checks on his palico gadgets while I kept putting new 9mm bullets, that I just noticed were hollow-points, into my spare magazines.

 _Brain check start! One, two, three. 2 plus 2 equals fish!_ Yep, conscious thought still the same. What about subconscious? I've just killed for the first time in my life, and other than the guts and smell I was pretty okay. There wasn't much in the way of guilt or remorse. Possible reasons for not feeling anything includes but is not limited to:

One, videogames have taught me to despise bandits on a gut level.

Two, I _really_ don't like bullies.

Three, I've always been more open to the idea of killing people who might be pose a threat to me.

I mean, once I was old enough to understand 9/11 and the fact that the biggest threat to my family was our fellow man, almost all of my daydreams were about the worst case scenario. What should I do if bad people ever threatened me and those who were with me at the time? Simple. Do everything in my power to make sure they could never try again. I chose to never be a victim. Kill the bad guy before they hurt me. Or if they were going to kill me no matter what I did, take them down with me. I'd come up with new contingency plans everyday. For school, the mall, at home, even at breakfast. I rehearsed what I might need to do to survive again and again in my thoughts. Maybe I've inadvertently given myself the mindset to handle killing and what it might do to me.

Yes, I have a better understanding of one of my underlying mindsets. _It is okay and natural to kill those who are a threat_. And the guilt for those affected, the families of scumbags who might not have anything to do with it? Too bad, I only have so much empathy to go around. Although the funny thing is, I seem to care more about certain animals than humans. When I found a dying baby bird, I gave it water and wrapped it up to make it more comfortable. I held vigil until it died. I searched for its siblings. They were all dead as well. I buried them together under a tree. Pretty sure I wouldn't give that much effort for another person.

Damn, something was definitely different with my brain chemistry. _It's getting dark, better take my medication._ I turned to go to my house's pantry before remembering my current situation. Oh shit, I don't have my meds. It was just a serotonin supplement, a basic antidepressant. But I do know that when I missed a dose I became confrontational and irritable. And if I had a relapse…

Hoo boy, this is not going to be pleasant unless I keep my temper in check. Guess I'll ask Anna to see if she can source some meds from Earth. Oh well, next on the agenda.

Should I kill Risen tonight, or avoid them? As long as this isn't Lunatic, the Shepherds will be fine. _What about the many farmers and villagers scattered around the countryside?_ "... Well shit." *Click* Mocha seemed to understand that I was in my own little world and kept on with his preparations for tonight. Individually, Risen aren't a problem. A horde of them might necessitate an assault rifle. My bowgun could use Wyvern Heart, but I'd have to wait for another stack of ammo to be generated. Safest thing to do tonight would be to keep my distance and take a few potshots to get a look at their capabilities. And if I came across civilians in danger then the best bet would be to direct them towards the capital.

As for Lucina, the poor girl has been through hell. I should try to make contact with her to let her know she's not alone with foresight. And my best friend had her as a waifu, so I am honorbound to make sure she's alright. *Click* Fully loaded. I gave Mocha the details for tonight, and began to drift off once I had tied myself securely to the tree. "Wake me up if I miss the earthquake." And then I was out like a spent candle.

* * *

"Meowster. Meowster! Wake up!"

"Urrrr. Don't feel like it." * _Smack_ * "I'm up!"

"Sorry Meowster, but you were out like a jaggi."

"It's okay, did I miss anything?" My eyes were drawn to a hardwood case Mocha was holding.

"Well, you missed everything." Mocha had some patches of darkened fur, hinting that he'd been singed a bit.

"Okay, start from the beginning."

One explanation later…

I slept through the _whole thing_. Mocha had to relocate us, on account of there being the apocalypse in the forest next door. He had dragged me down the tree and over a little distance, just enough to feel safer. There had been the Shepherd's battle further back towards Southtown, which Mocha had watched. He had to navigate the burning brush to observe. He confirmed no casualties on the Shepherd's side. The kicker though, was that little miss future herself had managed to spot Mocha and followed him here. She didn't stay long. Lucina simply dumped the wooden case next to me and told my palico that it was my inheritance.

"Well that's different." I sat up and put the "inheritance" in my lap. Chance of this being a trap? Negligible, unless I was some crazy psycho in the future… damn it. Oh well, here we go!

"..."

"Meowster? What is it?"

I had opened the case, I'm pretty sure it was rosewood, and it was filled to the brim with the last thing I expected. "Cards. It's filled with a crapton of cards."

Inside the rosewood box were eighteen decks of cards separated with a criss-crossing divider. I looked at how tall the box was and saw it could fit more under a traditional deck. I looked inside again and saw that the divider was separate from the outer box. A tug on the divider revealed it could be removed while still holding the cards. I lifted it out and underneath was six more decks, plus a different surprise. In the middle of the bottom part of the box was a M1911A1 pistol with three magazines. _All right! Something I can use._ I took the wonderful sidearm out and held it reverently. It's metal parts were glinting in the moonlight, and the wooden grip just felt right. I grabbed the magazines next, and noticed they already had bullets in them. _Well looky here, regular .45 ACP cartridges. Definitely going to be my go to against armor._ I had an idea. I grabbed my ammo pouch and dumped the contents into my hand with the inventory enough, the 9mm hollow-points began adding up in the inventory. I got to about fifty rounds before it started to trickle down. I stopped for a moment to take a .45 bullet from a mag and put it inside the pouch. My hopes and dreams were fulfilled as the ammo pouch began to fill with the new ammo.

"Mocha, remind me to store bullets at least once a day from now on."

"Aye boss, I can do that."

"Thanks."

I put the M1911 and SP-89 in my inventory and assigned them to the hotbar as well. I stored my bowgun too, but left its icon in the regular inventory space for now. I looked back to the cards. What could they possibly be for, and who gave this stuff to Lucina so she could hand it off to me? Was there a future me in the bad timeline? I gave in to curiosity and picked up a card. I froze when I saw the image. An Einherjar card, but not one from canon. I was holding the card of a Dread Fighter, one well known to me.

It was Masaru, my unit from a save file in Awakening.

 **AN: I know, shorter chapter than last time. This just seemed to be a good place to set up the next one though. And now I'm going to try and name the chapters from now on as well, to give a better impression of what might be entailed in them. There will be a lot of introspection on Masaru's end throughout the story. Let's see how long he lasts before cracking under pressure. Remember to point out flaws that detract from the story, and PM me if you got questions.**


	4. Chapter 4: Ally and Assets Acquisition

**AN: There is no excuse other than writer's block. I will write and post a second, more absurd fic to keep the creative muse going. Oh, I also bought an actual katana for reference. Inspiration taken from the fic Asleep, quality stuff in that story. I don't own anything except myself. Begin!**

Mocha was a little concerned about Masaru. The cards he was looking over seemed to be distressing. It was approaching dawn, yet he didn't give any indication that they needed to stay ahead of the Shepherds. Mocha decided it'd be best to forage for anything useful left behind by the scary zombies until Masaru became responsive.

Masaru POV

I can't, I just can't understand. After picking up the first card I frantically searched through the rest of that deck. And I found me, myself, and I. Three more Dread Fighters after the first. Trevelyan, Trevyn, Traxis; all names that I use for games such as Awakening. I kept going. More versions of my game personas turned up. And they weren't just from Fire Emblem. There was a version of me from Etrian Odyssey, a Dragoon, armed with shield and rifle. Another version from from Lost Planet 2, an ex-Nevec snow pirate with a Harmonizer. There were some variants of me armed with modern tech and weapons, probably from FPS's I've played. While some minute features were different, each card had the same face portrayed, grim and full of contempt.

But what's all that compared to the cards that nearly stopped my heart? There were not one, not two, but three cards that pictured the deadliest of my forms. Those three cards had Spartan super soldiers portrayed on them. A Spartan Ⅱ, a Spartan Ⅲ, and a Spartan Ⅳ. Hayabusa, EOD, and HAZOP armors respectively. Each clad in white Mjolnir power armor and black bodysuits. And another three living weapons after them. Warframes, literally humans turned war machine. Excalibur, the peerless sword of the Tenno. Oberon, healer and reckoner. Nekros, master of the dead. Three Orikin super weapons encased in armor that actually conformed to them like skin. With shaking hands, I returned the cards to their deck.

 _Seventy. There are twenty-four decks of seventy cards each. Dear gods, do I even want to look at the others?_ I chose another deck, this time from the bottom of the box. It was, it was blank. The cards in this deck were all blank where a portrait was supposed to be. I didn't know what the reason for that was and moved on. I chose from the top again. The card I looked at this time had a portrait of a knight in full plate, late 17th century armor with an assortment of weapons in the background. Well, at least this card isn't overkill. Then I noticed a five hundred with an 'x' in front of it in the corner of the card.

* * *

"Wow, that was a lot of work. But boss will be happy with this, so it's worth the effort. Purrcuring old items might be my new purrfession." Mocha was about to head back when the forest suddenly shook with a loud yell.

"What the everloving SHAB AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH ALL THIS!"

"Uh oh. Sounds like boss is having a breakdown." Mocha sprinted back on all fours.

* * *

I think, I think that I shouldn't have yelled. Not only was it unbecoming of me, but it also attracted the leftover Risen. On the plus side, I now know that 9mm hollow-points are good for kneecapping purple zombies. Hitting their torso with the smaller round doesn't do much though. Headshots still seem to be the way to go with the undead. All of the cards were now in my inventory, so I was free to continue drawing Risen out into the open. Another undead warrior rushed me. I lined up the shot, waited, and then blasted it's head to smithereens once it was uncomfortably close. _Maybe a triple-tap was a bit much for one enemy._ Three yards minimum distance, three shots to guarantee a kill. I remember setting those parameters for myself when using high damage weapons in the shooting games I played. The biggest difference between the video games and this was the adrenaline. There was that gut fear of messing up, only infinitely multiplied. I struggled to control my breathing, my heart hammered much faster. My old instincts from kung fu class urged me to close the distance and pummel the bastards into submission. But I had a gun and they had stabbing sticks, and that meant keeping said impulse in were a good chunk of the miasma spewing shabuirs left, so I got ready for a long fight.

I sighted another Risen further out and pulled the trigger five times in succession. My old habits kicked in again, resulting in two herding shots to either side of the target, and three down the alley. It wasn't enough to put the puppet down though. The wounded Risen began to hobble closer, trying its hardest to put an axe in my head. You'd think there was a prize in it for them. *BANG* Another one bites the dust.

"Grrrrrr"

"Oly SHIT!"

I spun and jumped, doing something I hadn't tried in years. I straight-up delivered a spinning tornado kick to the chin of the Risen behind me. And promptly botched the landing. The Risen only staggered slightly to the side before closing in again. But just because I landed on my ass didn't mean I couldn't shoot. And so that zombie was thoroughly owned upon expiration. I got up and prepared to face down the remaining undead.

And then they got blasted to high ho oblivion by a giant red beam.

What the fuck? Oh, wait. "What the fuck!"

* * *

Third Pov

"You're welcome."

Masaru turned towards the newcomer. The man was wearing a combat outfit of dark navy blue, with bandoliers for equipment on both shoulders and a belt that looked military spec. The color scheme of dark blue and black made him blend in with the night, when he wasn't standing next to the glowing and scorched earth. One hand held a small weapon that resembled a pistol, the other rested on a sheathed knife. He had black hair down to his shoulders, but two hairpins kept his bangs out of his eyes. And then it hit Masaru. Other than a sharper chin and a scarred cheek, he was looking at his reflection.

"You are me." Masaru gripped his gun. "Why?"

The copy spoke.

"Yes and no. I am my own identity, yet linked to your existence here. Take a guess as to what I may be."

Masaru recalled some bits of his past readings. "An alternate?"

"Correct! At least our memories aren't completely shot to _haran_ yet. And you know my purpose?"

"To be a balancer. The alternates in stories acted mainly as antagonists for the characters, but they existed to preserve some balance of which I do not know."

"Right again! I'm supposed to offset your changes to the balance. I am you, but to a different extreme. And guess what the biggest difference between us is."

"Um, you're the more dashing one?"

Masaru's alternate facepalmed. "Gods dammit, we really need to work on your self esteem at some point. No, not that. I, unlike you, can be labeled as… mentally sound."

There was a pause. "Say what now? You saying I'm crazy?" Masaru didn't like what was implied.

"Nope, just unstable."

"Oh, I guess you aren't wrong about that. But you? You're all together?"

"Yep, I'm pretty sure I can't go kill crazy like the alternates in the stories you've read. I am a man of logic and common sense. I think. I hope. Listen, all I know is that I'd like a happy ending, and waging a personal war with the one who made my life possible doesn't seem like the best thing to do, ya get me?"

"I get your logic. Maybe I can find a relatively safe place for you to sit out all the nastiness headed our way."

"Whoa there, who said anything about sitting around while there's a fight going on? I've got skills, and I'm going to do my best to put Grima six feet under. Just try and stop me."

 _By the nine, my alternate is a good guy. Does that mean I'm the evil twin?_

…

 _I'm strangely okay with that._

"Well in that case" Masaru put away his weapon and held out his hand. "Partners?"

The alternate took a moment to holster his weapon. "Great minds think alike." He grabbed Masaru's arm, hand to elbow. "Partners."

They stood there for a few moments, grinning like idiots until Masaru broke the silence.

"What's your name? I'm currently using my Masaru alias."

His alternate seemed embarrassed.

"I-I actually haven't come up with one yet. Can you think of something that will suit me? You are technically the reason I'm here."

Masaru rocked back on his heels. "Hmmm, the weapon you're using is like that of another. He's a total badass who represents salvation. I think you can live up to the name. How bout it, Killy?"

* * *

Masaru POV

Mocha came back and seemed okay with the new addition. First and foremost, Killy and I managed to get our backstories together. We decided to be members of an armed collective who wanted to do business in Feroxi territory. We all ate an early breakfast and were about to continue on our way when we hit a snag.

"HALT IN THE NAME OF YLISSE!"

Pegasus dung. We were spotted by Pegasus knights. It seemed as though the little fracas in the forest had warranted an investigation from the capital, and of course who else but Phila and the Ylissean Royal Pegasus Knights would come. We were surrounded on the ground and in the air. And due to several things such as our foreign appearance, plus Mocha and our proximity to a giant glowing scar in the land, we were dead to rights. I had stored all of our weapons away beforehand, so that helped a little. Killy somehow got a radio earpiece that I can connect to, so while he can't speak discreetly, I can still give him a heads up if I spot a way out of this mess.

Lacking any better options we surrendered. All three of us were bound and to be put on seperate pegasi. Some of the knights kept giving Killy weird looks. I didn't understand what it meant until he mouthed 'Help me'. Another thing that's different between us, my alternate is a chick magnet. It took a great deal of willpower to not laugh at his predicament. But then it was his turn to hold in the giggles when two knights started to search me for hidden weapons. They lingered over a certain area that only the bodysuit covered when the armor's coil was removed. I'm guessing the form-fitting aspects made that part of me more eye catching than normal.

Mocha was very popular, being so fluffy and cute. He got to sit in front of the pegasus knight taking him. Me and Killy were laid across the Pegasi in front of the rider on our stomachs, and secured with some rope. The pegasus knight who was in charge of me seemed intrigued by my oddly ornate armor. Gah, no harm in being friendly.

"You can touch it if you want. Just mind the clasps."

She seemed caught off guard. She did a head tilt, and I cursed intelligent systems for making everyone so attractive. Her long brown hair was tucked back, grey eyes scanning me for some hidden threat. Pale skin and a slight frame gave the impression of a midsummer flower, but she wasn't a delicate maiden. She definitely had the muscles to fight and win a battle. I eventually felt her running a hand over the cape that adorned my back. She finally spoke.

"What is it made of?"

"Parts of a Legiana. It's a giant bird like wyvern that hunts in a certain highland. They're very aggressive and can manipulate ice, so you should probably hire a hunter to get the parts if you're interested in the material."

"I've never heard of a wyvern that could do that!"

"Yeah, they live in a really far off continent. Only five fleets have made it there, and they're stuck there for the most part because of how taxing the trip is."

"Huh, interesting. Are you a hunter?"

"I used to be one. Now I'm in charge of a small fighting force. Masaru Tsutsumi, leader of the Golden Sun Collective, at your service."

"Not much of a fighter to surrender so easily."

"Hey! You folks are a legitimate authority in Ylisse! We help people, not stir up needless trouble. Besides, I don't want a hoof induced headache on top of my current woes."

She giggled at that. "A smart man. My name is Serin. We'll be taking you to the capital until this whole mess gets cleared up. Don't worry, the Exalt is a kind soul."

"Thank you for the explanation lady Serin. Oh, before we take off, I must inform you that I am deathly afraid of heights. If I start panicking or thrashing about, do please render me unconscious for both our sakes."

Serin giggled again, and hefted her lance.

"No problem, this should be good enough. Although you could keep your eyes closed, it might just help a little."

"Okay. Just please don't let me fall?"

"I promise." She winked.

* * *

Killy POV

The early morning air certainly agreed with me. Even though I had been trussed up and carried quite roughly, I was having the time of my life. The air whipping by my face, the landscape below me so breathtaking, flying through the air was simply amazing. I was so grateful to be able to experience such wonder. However, the one who made my existence possible was not having as much fun. The Pegasus knight called Serin was doing her best to calm Masaru down, with mixed results.

"Hey, it's okay. You're not going to fall. I'm right here with you," said Serin.

Masaru was still freaking out. He would occasionally mutter out a prayer to Buddha or start whimpering incoherently. He would sometimes calm down at Serin's behest, but it was obvious that heights were among the worst of his phobias.

The Pegasus knight in charge of me was not impressed.

"How can a wuss like him hunt anything?"

I wracked my brain for a answer. "I think he's afraid of heights because a traumatic incident involving elevation happened when he was a child. He might not remember consciously, but the rest of him does. On the ground he can be pretty brave, sometimes a little shy of crazy."

She seemed to ponder my words.

"Yeah, guess everyone has their own stuff to deal with. How about you pretty boy? Got anything we might need to know before we land?"

"I'm sure I'll manage."

"Have it your way. The capital should be coming up soon."

A short time later we crested another set of hills, and suddenly the outskirts of Ylisstol were in view. Flat terrain gave ample space for farms and outlying communities before the walls. Well traveled roads weaved between the occasional cluster of buildings as they all converged at the gates into the city. Ylisstol's walls looked around five to six stories tall. Other than a few ballista along the ramparts, it didn't seem that well defended. When we reached the city proper I spotted the sun making its way higher into the sky. I busied myself with calculating how much time we had before Chrom and co. caught up.

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Masaru POV

If there was a time to be grateful for a helmet, it'd be now. Once safely back on the ground, I could finally process how embarrassing my earlier behavior was. I was mortified, but as long as my helmet was in place I could project an impression of indifference. With trembling knees I slid off the Pegasus and stood on firm ground. My tough guy facade didn't last long, as Serin and two other knights fussed over me. They untied us three outlanders while Phila went to inform the Exalt of our arrival. We appeared to be in one of the castles training yards, one specifically for the Pegasus knights if the stables were any indication.

Emmeryn seems like the type to see the weird strangers herself. I think Frederick mentioned something about removing headwear in the presence of Ylissean royalty. I undid the helmet's seals and lifted it off my head. I squinted while my eyes adjusted. It seemed like I was still nearsighted after all, but at least I could tell faces apart.

Serin stared at me while I made sure my helmet was clipped properly to my belt. She looked at Killy, then back to me.

"Are the two of you brothers?"

I went with the indirect route.

"It's complicated. I guess the best way to describe it is that we're sort of estranged family." _Technically not a lie, I think._

The answer seemed good enough for Serin and her sisters in arms. We were told to stay put until Captain Phila returned, and with that they went to stable their pegasi.

Mocha interpreted 'stay put' as 'sprawl out on the ground and look adorable.' Meanwhile, I turned to Killy once we had a modicum of privacy.

"Any bright ideas? We still need to get into Ferox."

He took a second to think. "It'd be better to leave before Chrom and Lissa get back. Just tell Emmeryn the same story. In charge of armed collective, want to do business up north."

"What if she asks about our 'other' members?" I had a bad feeling about that line of inquiry.

"You have them, don't you? The cards I mean."

"Oh. Let me go over some names in that case."

 _One inventory search later…_

While I had gone through my inventory I noticed something new. There was a letter and a few pages of parchment alongside the box and cards.

I must have missed them during my initial inspection.

I discreetly withdrew the pages and stowed my helmet again. I beckoned Killy over so we could read it together. There was no envelope, just a neatly folded square that opened up to reveal my own handwriting.

 **Dear past self,**

 **Do not feel guilty for my failure and subsequent suffering. I accomplished much, and now entrust that legacy to you.**

 **As expected of a doomed future, there was a great deal of bloodshed. After failing to stop the second assasination attempt on Emmeryn, I gave in to my hate. I ended up harvesting a great deal of plegian and valmese souls. Yes, you are not going insane yet. Judgment is capable of claiming souls to deny Grima power and to further your own. The more souls consumed, the greater influence the sword has over the world. Our relatives continue to spoil us with extravagant gifts. But despite this, I was not able to deny Grima enough victims to stop her revival. I could not fight at my best either. Watching the Shepherds gradually fall took its toll on me. I founded countless militias and armies. I claimed powerful relics. It was never enough. Eventually, Grima managed to capture me. True to her cruel self, she kept me alive as entertainment. Many of my loyal soldiers fell in desperate rescue attempts. It broke my spirit more than any other torture. But Judgment urged me to persevere for one critical effort. When Grima left the Dragon's Table to lay siege to Ylisstol, I made my escape. As I write, I am to rendezvous with the children at Naga's last stronghold, to give them my final gift before they leave for the past. I will destroy my soul using our blade. I will give shape and form to everything in my imagination that can aid you. And I shall be split apart with the countless other lost souls into an eternal army. I will give new life to the loyal men and women that I failed. I will atone for all I have done wrong by creating Einherjar to save the past. If you are reading this, then I have made one final success. You hold what remains of my hope.**

 **Surpass the gods and make this story have an ever after.**

Several beats of silence passed before we could even react to what was written. Killy was able to speak first.

"Uh, well then. I hope this isn't a common occurrence."

He seemed to be having trouble coming to terms with the biggest revelation of his short life. He walked away with a blank stare after I put the letter away.

As for me? Dumbstruck. Frazzled. Out of it. There really wasn't a word to describe the state of mind I found myself in. I decided to process things piecemeal, to avoid an even worse headache.

At least I know where the cards came from. I now have a better idea as to Judgement's purpose. I have allies, sort of. With this new lease on life, I can make a different story.

I looked up into the sky. It never got old, watching the serenity of a calm day. It was my reminder of the vast beauty of existence. I felt somber after reading the letter. Still couldn't figure out what specifics made me feel this way. The peaceful blue expanse comforted me as I came to terms with what had happened. I could have gone with the children. I could have lived and fought. But instead, my future self chose to die. Not just die, he destroyed his soul. Oblivion. No chance at an afterlife. What convinced him? To grant me power? Or was it guilt, unending sadness for those he lost? Maybe both. My emotions are fragile still. I don't respond well to grief.

But now I knew. A part of me was gone forever. He didn't take the cowards way out. If our psyches were anywhere to being similar, he must have debated the positives and negatives of the sacrifice for days. Strangely, I was proud of him. He gave Grima one last show of defiance in death. _An eternal army, that's a hell of a legacy._

I looked back to Killy. He was petting Mocha and showering the furball with attention. My alternate self was more outgoing, and didn't seem to have any of my mental impairments. Perhaps he could live the life I never could. He could find someone and be happy after the world was saved. I was too far gone, too many demons whispering on my shoulders. But Killy was like a brand new me, free of hurtful influence.

 _I'll make sure you don't end up like me. You're my new brother, I have a chance to make things right. You will have your happy ending. As for me, I can figure something out._

My gaze wandered back up to the sky. I wondered why my future self made a blank deck. Deep down, I wished for guidance. Someone to show me the right path. Yet the heavens remained silent.

 **AN: So you might be wondering "What the heck! What's with the op shit!" I think I should explain my overarching plan for this fic. This story's MAIN CONFLICT is between "Masaru" and "his desire to destroy whatever he hates." This especially applies to people he considers a waste of space. I might need to change the genre if the dark humor somehow loses the humor part. My plan is: give the character the overwhelming power they yearned for, and see if I can write about their attempt at using that power while staying true to themselves. Masaru doesn't mind a little madness, but he hates the thought of not having control of himself. *Spoiler Alert* I plan to give him an even greater set of powers that will simultaneously hope to keep things humorous, and also set the foundations for the absurd fic(s) I plan on posting in the future.**


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